


Pilgrimage

by Fostofina



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Afterlife, Andie The Blondie, Death, Edric The Dwarf, F/M, Other, Post-Canon, Post-Game, Post-Game(s), Spoilers, The Fade, Tom the tomcat, Trespasser compliant, Weird Shit, wierdly enough
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 10:47:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4345595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fostofina/pseuds/Fostofina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all began with her death.</p><p> </p><p>Than it <em>really<em> got wierd</em></em>....</p><p>During the Balcony scene after the final battle with Corypheus, the inquisitor mysteriously dies.<br/>She wakes up in the fade and gets a mission before she can move on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Image Credit: Exhale by The-Inner-Observer
> 
> http://the-inner-observer.deviantart.com/art/Exhale-408560514

    She was dying…

 This horrifying, simple truth came to her as reassuringly as a mother’s embrace, which was a surprise on its own since she’s been trembling on the cold stone floor of her quarter’s balcony for some time now. A cacophony of pain burned her throat as she coughed and gasped for air .The young Lavellan cried out for help but her pathetic attempts were stifled by the sounds of music and laughter radiating from the rest of Skyhold.

 Finally, the inquisitor accepted her fate and she stopped struggling and stayed still on the ground. _At least Corypheus is dead_. Strange feelings of serenity and peace bloomed inside her, washing away all the pains and burdens that have been bubbling up inside her since she went to that cursed conclave. Being taken prisoner. Being declared as the Herald of Andraste. Seeing the misery of others. Taking responsibility for every single person and decision. Becoming the inquisitor and realizing that she will never ever return home to everyone she loved since she was a little girl.

  _You are a rare and marvelous spirit. In another world…_

 There was a pang in her heart as the smell of the burning candles inside disappeared along with the gentle light that they’ve cast on the floor of her lavish quarters. The sounds of celebrations became more and more distant. And after what seemed like an eternity, the music stopped altogether, the dalish elf didn’t see anything and she didn’t feel the pain in her body anymore…

 She only felt the cold.

 

 

                                                                         

 

 

 


	2. Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image Credit: Valentina Contreras on tumblr
> 
> http://1000drawings.tumblr.com/post/25754902747/by-valentina-contreras
> 
> The Afterlife begins.Truths are confronted. A mission is given.

   Hot, moist air clung to her skin as the familiar musty smell of dirt and dried leaves invaded her nose. Noises of swooshing tree leaves and birds and hallas reached her ears and coursed through her body, making her heart drum with joy against her chest as she felt a grin make its way on her face. Everything told her that she was in the home of her girlhood again. And she dared not open her eyes or move an inch lest this spell breaks.

Her head was laid on something soft and almost too warm. _Yep, definitely not opening my eyes_. The elf let out a small sigh and allowed herself to be pampered in this strange paradise. Although she did find it just a bit strange that she didn’t walk a path to get to the afterlife. 

Her course was just beginning.

And the servants of Dirthamen, raven-spirits of fear and deceit would try to lead her astray from the road.

 _I am not powerless._ When Dalish elves die, their clan buries them and plant a tree over their remains. They give them an oak staff to help them along their path, and a cedar branch to scatter away the ravens.

 Reflexes set in first as she quickly scrambled up, looking for her cedar branch, but she found nothing. _Oh, for fuck’s sake! Couldn’t they give me a proper elven burial?_ Her hunter’s blood was coming alive in the face of danger when she heard a calm, quiet laugh from behind her. The former-leader-of-the-inquisition-current-branchless-soul whirled around to find a young woman in a pristine white dress sitting cross-legged on the ground where her head was occupied.

 She was small, with an upturned nose and blonde hair the color of sand. She held one elegant hand over her lips as she chuckled lightly, however, it was her mismatched eyes that rattled the Lavellan’s bones: One of them was as grey as dark steel, it revealed confidence and sovereignty. The other eye was a brilliant shade of topaz, but somehow it was empty, as if it was seeing something else entirely or perhaps nothing at all. Something about it was…off.

The small woman was now smiling fondly at her as she spoke with a euphonious voice ‘Peace, Ellana Lavellan. You have no reason to fear me’

_That’s odd! She used my middle name. Not many people know it; usually I’m known as…_

‘Sit down, child’ the woman pointed to the ground next to her and Ellana decided she would play along for now.

‘Who… What are you exactly?’ She couldn’t ignore the feeling that she met this stranger before. As if the situation wasn’t weird enough.

The blonde let out another laugh ‘we’ve met before, herald. Can’t you feel my presence?’

 As creeped out as the Lavellan was she couldn’t shake off the feeling of nostalgia and trust that this…thing was making her feel, as evident by the fact that she’s sitting next to her now instead of running for the hills. She only gave trust like that to a strange entity one time in the past…

‘Divine Justinia? But…wait…no. That’s not possible’ all that seemed very out of character for her and besides, she didn’t look like that at all.

‘Take your time’ the Not-Spirit had an amused smile on her face.

The spirit she met in the fade wasn’t really the divine. It never told Ellana what or who was she exactly, it only helped her escape and gave her back her memories of the conclave, when how the divine helped her escape from the fade and gave her-

An acerbic pain rose in her head as new memories flashed in her head, each one searing and branding her mind, filling blank spaces that she didn't know existed.

‘The Divine never entered the fade with me’ She stated matter-of-factly. ’I was in there alone, I climbed out alone’ Ellana looked at the woman’s slightly glowing form ‘you helped, took my hand and led me out of the fade. And then you helped again when I went back…’

The woman looked her in the eyes, the smile growing wider on her face as realization dawned on the Lavellan.

‘Why didn’t you tell me when we were in the fade? Why lie to me and give me false memories?’ Ellana asked, hoping to somehow avoid the conclusion she reached.

 ‘Who would you trust more?’ Andraste asked ‘A spirit who claims to be a remnant of a dead divine? Or a spirit who claims to be the bride of the maker?’

  _Well…Shit._

‘Besides’ She continued, her grey eye iridescent ‘Just imagine the frenzy everyone around you would be in if they were certain. It would have hindered you even more’

_She certainly is wise at least._

‘Also seeing this whole thing play out was the most amusing thing I’ve ever done’ Her blue eye came alive ‘ I mean the look on your face whenever you saw Corypheus’ dragon was hilarious. It wouldn’t be half as amusing if you knew I was with you’ Andraste then began to cackle, the sound growing louder with each second.

 _She’s also five kinds of nuts…Swell_.

Sadness overtook Ellana's heart as the fact that her people were wrong about their faith dawned on her, not only is her valasllin a symbol of slavery. It was also pointless. There are no gods to honor with it, the blood writing on her face only served to brand her like cattle.

_Flemeth lied about Mythal… the abomination of a witch was probably possessed by a demon. Or is this ‘Andraste’ a trickster herself?_

As if the spirit read her mind, she spoke to her patiently as if she was explaining something to an exceptionally slow child ‘Search you memories again and you’ll know that I am right. Clear your mind and focus and you will discern truth from lies.’

There was a twinkle in both her eyes as she continued ‘Worry not child. Your elven gods exist’ the corners of her lips twitched ‘after all, you carry the Dread Wolf’s son inside you.’

Ellana’s brain farted. Hard.

There is really no other way to describe how a person’s brain can suddenly run slowly, stuck on the same sentence without analyzing a single letter while the rest of the world flies around them on dragon wings. Her whole body felt as if she was floating in iced water.

_But that’s impossible. I’ve only been with…_

She remembered once when she was a young girl and climbing trees, she and her friends stood on the tallest oak and they dared her to jump. She obliged of course, lest she be called a coward and in the end she twisted her wrist and the keeper, who was like a mother to her, made her bathe all the hallas for a month. However, it was neither the punishment nor the excitement that she remembered clearly.

 It was the specific, unique feeling of simply falling into an uncertain end. Because the end didn’t matter, all that she felt in the pit of her stomach, on the goosebumps engraving the surface of her skin and through her fingertips was falling.

 

 All that she feels **now** is falling.

 

The only way to stop the numbness that was taking over her (and to not cross a bridge she did not wanna get to) was to gather every ounce of willpower she had in her to remind herself very firmly, that the small woman in front of her had more than a few screws loose.

‘Alright then’ Ellana’s voice came out a bit hoarse ‘Why am I here?’

 Andraste’s face grew serious ‘ we are in the fade; right now everyone knows that you are dead. I had to hide you lest he knows that you’re here’

‘Who?’

‘Corypheus of course!’ Andraste exclaimed, her patience thinning.

_But I killed him..._

‘After you weakened him you hurled him into the fade’ the blonde explained ‘ the fade, where the black city lays, Herald’

Cold sweat started to run down the Lavellan’s forehead as she took in what Andraste was telling her. _I’ve only driven him closer to his goal..._

‘But…He’s weak! He can never reach the black city’ Ellana exclaimed, trying to hang on to a floating straw while drowning in an ocean.

‘He grows stronger each passing minute. All he needs to do is to reach the black city. But I must warn you that he is not taking chances even now. He binds more and more demons as we speak. Willpower is paramount here in the fade and Corypheus is a powerful mage’ Andraste's seemed pained as she continued ‘ I’m afraid that if he succeeds, no one will be safe. You best not let him find out about you ‘

‘So Navigating through the fade, fighting demons and who knows what else Corypheus has lined up’ Ellana listed ‘I know next to nothing about the fade, I barely escaped last time I was here and that was when I had five other skilled fighters with me’ She continued, frantic ‘I don’t even have a weapon or an armor and you expect me to survive this?’

‘If you want your friends, your inquisition and the whole world to live, I expect you to do more than that, Herald’ Andraste said, smiling sweetly. ‘I expect you to rip the darkspawn’s heart out of his chest’.

 

 

                                                                                     

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you have any questions or suggestions just hurl them my way ;D


	3. Crossroads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trippy dreams. Thinking it through. Decisions are made.

 

   The forest had turned suddenly dark the moment Ellana was left alone. The trees and the sounds that had delighted her only a few moments ago suddenly looked a lot more threatening as moonlight shimmered through the thick foliage around her, revealing a single winding road almost hidden between the trees. Seeing that there was nowhere else to go, she allowed herself a sigh before moving forward.

 

* * *

 

_She was walking around Skyhold. The grand stronghold, which was usually buzzing with life and warmth all the time, was abandoned and hollow. The fires, which once gave the halls a comforting light were all snuffed out. The only sound that could be heard was the sound of the rainstorm raging outside against the sturdy walls of the ancient fortress._

_Suddenly she was in the grand hall, sitting on the inquisitor’s throne, in front of her stood a tall silhouette, its eyes gleamed in the darkness and great horns adorned its head. A deep familiar voice, old and weary came from its direction…_

_‘Hello boss’_

_Ellana stood up and half ran to him, her heart soared at the sight of her friend "Bull!"_

_A sharp pain struck her twice in her back and forced her into a halt and she turned around. Numbness was already seeping in where blood was trickling out._

_Behind her stood Varric and Sera,_ Bianca _and_ Silent Jenny _still in their hands. They spoke in unison, their voices hard and cold "Harellan…"_

_She felt another wave of pain shooting through her stomach, when she looked down, The Bull’s great-sword, coated in blood and shining like a giant ruby, was sticking out of her "Harellan…" She heard him growl in her ear._

_Suddenly there was a burning pain searing all of her body, she heard a sizzle and the smell of burning flesh reached her nose "Harellan…" She heard Dorian and Vivienne mutter, fury ringing clear their voices._

_Then Cassandra and Blackwall came at her, each driving a gleaming sword through her sides. And finally, Cole appeared out of the shadows, his daggers going straight into her heart "Harellan…" They chanted._

_The voices of her companions grew steadier and more rhythmic and they formed a circle around her. Pain overtook all of her senses as she fell on her back, blood pooling around her and everything._

_She heard soft padding on the floor as the hall grew quiet. And suddenly a great wolf was looming over her, its fur was pitch black and it had six glowing red eyes. Really, it should have been a terrifying sight. The giant, quiet wolf should have drilled fear in her very soul._

_If it wasn’t for his scent..._

_Instead of smelling like fur and blood, the wolf smelled like old books and pine and something else that she has never figured out, something elegant and wonderful and ancient._

_Her heart stopped beating for just a moment, before it started hammering through her chest with all the force of a Qunari horde._

_As messed up as it was, she could never be scared of this quiet wolf..._

_He smelled like Solas…_

 

Her eyes shot open as she woke up and laid still in the darkness, drenched in sweat. _Dreaming when you sleep in the fade is a bad idea. Got it._ She had walked the never-ending path until she got tired and eventually she'd decided to get some rest.

 _No more rest for a while._ Blinking away the grogginess, Ellana sat up straight and let the cold breeze dry her off; the road she was on seemed to be endless and now was the moment to make a decision.

Time to think properly.

The inquisitor started sorting out the swirls of thoughts in her mind. _Let’s start with "Andraste"._

First thing is first, she wasn’t lying about one thing at least: After focusing and searching her memories she was certain that the mysterious spirit, dubbed _Andie The Blondie_ , was the same one who was with her in the fade every time she was there and that memories of her time with the divine were false ones. Of course, none of that meant that Andie was the bride of the maker…

_She could’ve been a demon or a spirit of deceit…who also helped me before…and…and…_

Ellana let out a groan of frustration as she roughly ran her fingers through her hair. _Maybe it’s all a trap._ Corypheus could be leading her right to him, but wouldn’t it be simpler if he’d just let her perish on her own?It's not like he needed the anchor anymore. 

Second of all, Ellana knew for a fact that Andie was lying about something else. The lie was so blatantly obvious that the Dalish elf felt a wide grin spread on her face. _As if I could be pregnant_. There was about a thousand reasons why this would be impossible.

The first person she was that intimate with was Solas, and then there was the thing with the valasllin and then there was no one else. Logically speaking, There was simply no way all that time passed without her showing at least signs of child bearing. There was also the fact that she’s been running around and fighting all over Thedas which would have definitely ended any hope of a child long before it got a chance to take a firm root in her.

 _I’ve never even met the thrice damned dread wolf._ She let out a small breathy laugh as she remembered how cold she felt when Andie told her that she carried the elven god’s child within her. Besides, she was **_freaking_ dead**.  _Spirits that don’t have deceit as a part of their nature truly are the worst liars ever…_  

Deeming herself dried and rested, Ellana stood up and looked at the road ahead of her. She figured that even if Andie was a shady spirit, The Blondie has helped her before. Besides, what other choice did she really have?

_I have to do this._

And just like that the forest around her flickered away and everything around her changed, giving way to new surroundings.

She was standing in what looked like the summer bazaar in Val Royeaux; the sun shimmered off the blue and grey colors of the city bathing everything in a dazzling white light. The city bustled with life, people of all shapes and sizes passed by her, chatting amicably and excitedly gossiping about the latest news. 

All that light blinded Ellana for a second or two, she squinted her eyes as she made her way to one of the nobles ‘Excuse me, ser?’ 

No answer.

Not even a blink of acknowledgment.

_Right. I’m in the fade. I should’ve known better._

Turning to the center of the square, Ellana found a breathtaking sight in front of her.

 In the center of the square, instead of the circular building adorned with Orlesian crafted golden lions, there was a gargantuan statue made of glittering solid gold. The magnificent statue depicted three women, standing with their backs to each other, forming a triangle; their arms stretched forward and their palms extended to the sky, cradling jade veilfire. They wore simple clothing and spiked crowns on their heads. One of them was a young woman, vibrant and barely an adult. The next one was a woman, mature and strong. The last one had an old face that was embossed with life’s hardships and joys, wisdom shined out of her. In front of each figure, the square opened up into a wide street.

It was one of the most beautiful things that she had ever laid eyes upon. And after all that she saw so far, that meant a thing or two about its sheer beauty.

Suddenly, the statue of the young woman moved its head towards Ellana, staring down at her; all other voices muted as the statue spoke in a girlish and powerful voice that resonated into the air like a bass trumpet, bouncing of the walls and shaking the trees around the elf as it reached her ears ‘You must make a choice if you are to pursue your quest, Herald’ 

Her voice actually made Ellana’s knees clack against each other, not out of fear, but because of its utter intensity and power. _Show-off…_ She took a minute to compose herself and answered in the least squeaky voice she could muster ‘Who are you?’

The youngest of them answered her again, her voice booming through the square ‘I am Puella, The Dawn’

The older woman then spoke, her voice womanly and more powerful, the air shifted around the Dalish with her words ‘ I am Mulier, The Day’

The oldest of the three finally spoke, her voice was the oldest and when the words left her mouth, the earth began to tremble under Ellana’s feet ‘ And I am Aniculis, The Night’

The three shapes then spoke together, their voices shook the ground so hard that the earth started to split and cracks reached the walls. The wind stirred at their might, prying some trees out of their roots and hurling them across the plaza. The people, who were bustling with energy and life a few seconds ago, all fell to the ground and shattered like glass. 

‘CHOOSE NOW. YOU MUST CHOOSE THE ROAD THAT YOU WILL TAKE.’

 

                                                                                           

 


	4. The Children

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art: After Nature by megatruh on Deviantart (She's amazing)
> 
> http://megatruh.deviantart.com/art/after-nature-363431324
> 
> New companions. A new road. New discoveries.

                                                                                       

 Everything was austerely quiet for a second before Ellana heard a soft whimper from behind her. The sound was so low that she would never have heard it if it wasn’t for the sudden silence. Carefully, the elven girl turned away from the statues and tiptoed toward the source of the voice. She used all of her hunter’s experience to quietly reach a large bush that was left miraculously untouched by the chaos caused by the statue.

Behind said bush, she found a small dwarven boy _. Mythal’s tits! What’s a dwarf doing in the Fade?_

Said boy was shivering, but he was as quiet as a shadow. The little dwarf had strange hair: it was yellow, not the golden variety, but the color of sunflower petals. His small, pale arms were fiercely clutching a big tomcat with fur the same shade of yellow. _Poor guy... These golden assholes must have scared him to death_. The cat watched her with edgy green eyes, its whole body tense as it observed her approach.

As softly as possible, she stretched her hands towards him. In a near-whisper, she asked, ‘Are you okay?’

The boy’s whole body jerked, as he looked at her pleadingly. His eyes were pale blue with specks of honey in them, and they brimmed with tears as he let out a terrified shriek.

‘It’s okay!’ Ellana told him, desperately trying to calm him down.

In response, the boy started to crawl away as he let out a loud sob.

‘I’m sorry if I scared you,’ she said as gently as she could, afraid that he would run away.

The boy stopped crawling and started regarding her the same way a bird regards a snake. Ellana stayed where she was and sat down on the cracked ground, forcing herself to relax. She dared not move or look openly at him lest she scare him away.

What felt like an eternity passed with them both sitting perfectly still; then, very, very, slowly, the yellow cat made its way towards her. It circled her half a dozen times before it started inspecting her hands. Having finally deemed her worthy of its attention, the big tomcat nuzzled her finger. She took that as an invitation and started to gently pet it. The cat gave a satisfied purr and went back to the dwarven boy.

The boy picked up the cat and turned his eyes to her again. They were still full of fear, but they were also curious. He seemed to be having an internal battle before he finally spoke, his voice low and shaky. ‘You… your… your clan?’

_Somehow, even after the giant statue just spoke, I did not expect that._

She tried to keep her tone less dry and more gentle. ‘My name is Ellana, of clan Lavellan.’

The boy’s eyes lit up at the mention of her clan name, he stood up and waddled over to her. ‘She said I’d meet you!’

 _Keep your tone even. Dammit!_ ‘Who did?’

‘The old woman!’ he said as if that explained everything. ‘She has all the answers. She always tells the truth and she knows everything!’

_How… convenient._

‘Okay… what’s your name?’

‘I’m Edric,’ the boy mumbled, before holding up his cat proudly and declaring, ‘and this here is Tom!’

This time Ellana couldn’t stop herself from grinning.

Hey, there was a reason why Josephine handled all the nobles. Ellana was once a spy and she knew how to play the game to an extent, but she still had had her limits. Right now, the elf could just blame her current failings on all the trippy things that had happened to her since she died.

‘You named your tomcat _Tom_?’

‘Yes.’ 

‘You don’t see any problem with that?' 

‘No.’

‘So you never thought you’d change it?’

The boy gave her a pointed look, raising a yellow eyebrow. ‘It’d just confuse him.’

‘Right, of course.’ Ellana couldn’t help but think how much Edric was reminding her of Cole at the moment. ‘We should probably head out of here before the statue gets angry and starts yelling again.’

The cat jumped out of the dwarf’s arms as he jumped up, excitement lacing his voice. ‘I’ll show you how to get to the woman!’

‘Woah, woah, woah... hold up. Who said that I’m going to see the foreboding, mysterious woman that told you to get me?’

Edric looked at her, blue eyes intense, his voice resolute. ‘Because she knows everything and you need to talk to her.’

Ellana stood up and stared at the three roads around her. ‘Nice try, but if I had a copper for every time someone told me _I_ needed _them_ I’d be richer than all the ancient elves, and their gods too.’

 _The road before the Day statue looked the most promising._ She started moving toward it when the boy shouted from behind her. ‘She said you’d be an elf of clan Lavellan, she said you’re called Inquisitor and that you need to stop _Coryphi-ooze_ before he enters the Black City and that Dorian is your best friend!’

His words brought her to a halt. Her name and title were common knowledge in Thedas, and the fact that Corypheus still lived could have been widespread in the Fade considering that he was recruiting demons. However, the fact that she _may_ love Dorian best among her friends was something that she kept close to her heart. The two of them just understood each other better and could tell each other anything without fear of judgment. Besides, she had always liked to flirt and sometimes people took it the wrong way, but she could always count on the Tevinter mage for safe, noncommittal, flirtatious conversations brimming with lewd comments.

The corners of her lips twitched upwards. ‘His name is _Corypheus.'_

Edric looked puzzled. ‘Yes, that’s what I said.’

_Maybe one more test._

‘Anything else this all-knowing woman told you about me?’

 Proud of his potential success, the yellow haired boy announced in a voice as loud as a war horn, ‘How about the time when you set up camp with your clan and you all ended up running naked out of a cave in the moonlight. Remember? It…’

 Before he could finish detailing the story, Ellana was upon him. Her face was flushed as her hands pressed against his mouth and the dwarf flinched ‘All right I believe you! You don’t have to yell it!’

‘So you’re coming with me?’ He looked at her in a way that reminded her of a baby halla.

_If she really has the answers, then it’s a better bet than walking around aimlessly like I have been._

Ellana let out a small sigh and finally made her choice. ‘Alright then, where do we go?’

Edric stood up and pointed to the road on her left. ‘This one,’ he declared. ‘The road to Dawn.’

And then everything went to hell.

 

* * *

 

 

The three golden figures opened their lovely, exquisite lips and let out a chorus of earth-shattering howls.

Literally. 

The cracks in the earth quickly spread as the veilfire cradled in the statue’s palms shot up to the sky in three brilliant jade pillars, hitting it in three points and forming three balls of flames.

Two heartbeats passed and the veilfire in the sky slithered out of each fireball to the next, connecting them and forming a great triangle of veilfire looming over the devastated remains of Val Royeaux and bathing everything in brilliant emerald light.

_Please let this be the end of it._

Of course it wasn’t. 

The celestial triangle collapsed onto itself and the exploded across the sky. The once topaz sky suddenly became alive and turned into blazing jade.

As if on cue, the cracks in the earth began to grow wider apart and Ellana grabbed Edric by the shoulder and kept him close to her. She made sure to keep both their feet off the fissures as her eyes scanned around for an exit. The only place that was free of any cracks was the road before the lady of the Dawn and Ellana tightened her hold on Edric and started to make her way there before the earth swallowed them whole.

Then it started raining magnificent veilfire.

The same veilfire that had become one with the sky.

The sky, which had become a cradle of furious veilfire, was falling in righteous fury.

Somewhere, someone was laughing their ass off at her misery.

‘Fenedhis!’ Ellana growled as she grabbed Edric and Tom and started to run towards her only hope of not getting barbecued. She was determined not to look back. _Just focus on where you need to go!_ She was inching closer and closer at an agonizing pace and she wanted to go faster but Edric had short legs and she wasn’t about to leave him behind. _Just a little more…_  

Her heart was beating wildly in her chest and her palms became sweatier. Ellana tightened her hold on Edric and pushed her legs to move faster. The heat was scalding her skin and her eyes were watering but she kept on pushing until she saw the beginning of the untouched road and crossed the threshold away from the burning rain. _We’re safe! Thank Ghila…_

Before Ellana could finish her prayer, a crescendo of pain raked at her sides and an unyielding force sent her flying sideways. She heard Edric’s terrified shriek behind her as she slammed into the hard ground.

Fortunately, she survived the fall.

Unfortunately, now she saw what was behind her and she noticed three things.

One, there were two humanoid creatures. They were lean and twice as tall as her. Their whole body seemed to be made of glowing embers blazing with veilfire, the flames poured from the hollows of their face and burned on top of their heads like a crown. Two, the fact that Ellana, who was thirty feet away from them, could feel their heat on her skin said a thing or two about what they could do. And three, the two of them were currently hurling themselves towards a terrified Edric.

 If there was one thing that everyone knew about Ellana, it was that she was morbidly incapable of walking away when others needed her. That had always been especially true for children, so the sight of a petrified little boy being jumped by two fire-headed jackasses made her blood boil. Something furious and powerful flared inside of her and her left hand started to crackle with green light.

Without thinking, Ellana got up and shot towards Edric like an arrow. The more time passed, the more her emotions grew wild and the more power she felt building inside of her.

The Dalish huntress stretched out her hands and shouted at the demons, her voice dripping with ferocity. ‘FREEZE IN THE ABYSS!’

No green rays shot out from her palm.

Instead an immaculate white gale, mesmerizing and terrible, shot out from her palm and hit the fire-headed demons. Their fire adorning their heads was snuffed out and the once glowing embers that created their bodies lost their brilliance, falling to the ground in a heap of dull grey pebbles. 

For the first time since she’d met him, Edric looked like a normal child. His eyes were full of wonder as he looked at her. 

‘Magic!’ he whispered.

‘Fenedhis!’ she said for the second time today.

  

 

                                                                                

 


	5. Delve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image: The Fade from the Dragon Age: Origins concept art.
> 
> Past regrets. Present solace. Looming future.

‘What’s that drawing on your face?’ asked Edric, his millionth question.

The Fade was finally starting to look like its old self again - the rocks were shining with sparkling hues of green and everything had an ethereal quality to it. It was simply a vast rocky terrain surrounded by water. Fog lingered in any corners and giant boulders hung in mid-air, hovering like bumblebees.

Walking around in the Fade would not rank among Ellana’s favorite activities. She tried her hardest to remember everything that Solas had taught her about it.  _The Fade will shift to meet my expectations. Think happy thoughts!_ The Dalish elf tried to clear her head and to keep at bay her fears of demons and Ghilan’nain only knew what else.

Right now, she was beyond her fear and panic. All her energy was being spent on reining in other kinds of destructive thoughts. 

Ones that revolved around annoying children who won’t shut up.

In the time since they had left the (now destroyed) Val Royeaux, Edric had pestered her with questions about every aspect of her life and personality. He now knew her favorite color, food, drink, weapon, garb, season, length of hair, and her favorite animal. When she told him it was the halla, he made her explain and describe in painstaking detail _everything_ about them. In return, he happily told her that he knew how to speak Tevene. It was adorable at first, and then it got a bit bothersome, but after the thirtieth question it started to really grate on her.

Ellana had to stop in her tracks when her left eye began to twitch. ‘All right,’ she said, her voice as contained as it was going to get. ‘Why don’t we take a small, quiet break? I’m tired of walking.’ 

And without waiting for an answer, she sat down where she stood and buried her face in her hands, closing her eyes.

Her vallaslin was… a sensitive topic for her, to say the least. It always reminded her of Solas, not that she needed a reminder: He never left her mind. Why? It wasn’t like she didn’t have any experience. She was a grown woman (elf!) and he was not the first man in her life, even if he was the only one to grow so close to her heart.

Their time together in Haven would come back to her first, their talks together and how fascinated she was by every word that left his mouth; even then she felt his passion for everything he did and seeing how intense and calm he was at the same time captivated her even more than his stories. The mage had helped her scout to Skyhold, made her play the savior while he stood silently behind her. Their time in the fortress was when she knew him better, when she thought that she stripped away and knew each layer of him: his mischievousness, his sorrow, his hate for tea, his love for spirits, his idealism, his guilt, his happiness, his humor, his hunger, his fear, his impulsiveness that he hid like a secret shame. 

Despite his still appearance, she noticed how the corners of his eyes crinkled when he was up to something, how his brows furrowed when he was distressed, the clench of his jaw in anger, the shine of his eyes in happiness and she became proficient at reading him and at knowing how he would react to everything in front of him because she really thought that she knew him. Sometimes, Ellana wondered if he was really as unassuming as he looked until she decided that she didn’t care, for underneath all of his layers, when he was truly and wholly with her, he was like a puppy, playful and wise in his own way but loving above all else.

More memories of their time together at Skyhold flooded her mind at once: their first kiss, the expression in his stormy eyes, his hands at her back, his breath fanning her face, the first time he called her his _vhenan_ , The scent of old books and pine and something else overtaking her senses, their lazy afternoons in the rotunda, their passionate ones spent in privacy, the moment she knew in her bones that she was bound to him.

She really thought he loved her.

But she did something wrong and he left her without a hint of emotion in his voice.

He claimed that the fault lay with him, but he was fine, _they_ were fine right until he mentioned the vallaslin. He told Ellana that they were slave markings to honor the master’s chosen Elvhen god, and he asked if she wanted it gone. She told him that it meant something different now, that it became a symbol of freedom and hope. She kept it and he called her perfect and he gave her the sweetest kiss and… and he…

The fault _was_ with Ellana, even if he had claimed otherwise. 

_Stupid, pathetic me._

She had pleaded with him, begged him and told him that she loved him. And after they went back to Skyhold she had begged him again and demanded an explanation. When that didn’t work, she blew up in his face, then she acted cold towards him, jabbing him with the most waspish remarks she could think of and still he didn’t show her anything. One day she was his heart and the next she was less than nothing to him. 

Her eyes were suddenly moist as Ellana felt something fuzzy nudging her and she heard Edric’s voice beside her, his voice penitent and trailing. ‘I’m sorry! I just thought that it looked pretty…’ 

She furiously wiped her eyes. _Look at this!_ _You’re being a hot mess again Ellana._ She lifted her head to see the yellow cat snuggled haughtily next to her. Edric stood in front of her, his pale eyes were downcast with guilt and he was looking at a -newly found- interesting spot on the ground. 

‘It’s all right Edric, I just… remembered something else and it made me sad. It’s not your fault,’ she soothed.

Edric shuffled soundlessly and sat next to her, he held her hand firmly and they stayed quiet. The dwarf’s expression was stoic but somehow peaceful as he let her pick up whatever pieces of pride she had left after that display, after a while she decided to break the silence. ‘My tattoos are called vallaslin. When a Dalish elf proves theirself independent and pure they become worthy of wearing them. They… honor the elven gods.’

_That’s what why we wear them now, anyway._

Edric smiled brightly at her. ‘All of them?’

Ellana was grateful. ‘Well, we have different vallaslin for different gods. You can only wear one.’

His grip on her hand started to loosen. ‘I like yours, which one does it honor?’

Tom made his way back to the boy as she answered, ‘Ghilan’nain, the elven goddess of navigation.’ 

He was petting yellow fur as he looked at her quizzically. ‘Naviation?  What’s that?’

 _His mastery of the common tongue never ceases to amaze me._ ‘Navigation,’ she corrected gently, a small smile making its way on her face. ‘It means she… acts as a guide and a protector. Her favorite animals were the hallas too.’

She had always loved the beautiful beasts and she often helped her younger sister – the Keeper’s First - in looking after them. She had spent a long time trying to decide between her vallaslin and Andruil’s, but eventually, she’d decided that as much as she loved hunting, she loved animals too, and she would never hurt them for her pleasure. She loved Ghilan’nain’s story and appreciated her tenacity in standing up to the evil hunter. Besides, she figured that by being a huntress, she was already honoring Andruil with her actions.

Edric mulled over her words. ‘Navigation… huh? It suits you.’

 ‘Glad I chose well.’ Ellana didn’t want to dwell on the subject. ‘What about you? How did you end up in the Fade?’

‘I… don’t remember much.’ The boy furrowed his brow and spoke slowly. ‘I do remember someone… friends.’

His smile became fond. ‘I think there were two boys a little older than me, one of them was an elf, he was nice and he snuck in sweets for us to eat. The other one was human, we use to play together all the time, whenever I got sick he would always make sure I got better.’ He picked up his cat and gave him a fierce hug. ‘And Tom, of course!’ 

Ellana was confused. _An elf and a shemlen? Friends? In Tevinter?_ ‘Do you remember anything else?’

Edric’s face fell. ‘No, I don’t remember much. She says it’s best if I don’t anyway…’

_But why?_

‘She? You mean the woman that you’re taking me to see? The one that knows everything?’ 

The boy nodded and Ellana asked again: ‘Edric… who? What are you exactly?’

He shook his head, his expression mournful, his eyes glistening. ‘I don’t know!’ 

It was her turn to hold his hand and squeeze it, but instead of staying silent, Ellana got an idea. ‘Tell you what, you said that this woman needs me, right?’ _I’ll make her tell him everything._

Edric gave a small nod and murmured, ‘She said that if I help you reach her, she’ll give me back what I lost.’ 

_His friends, his memories… His clan._

Ellana gave him her most winning smile. ‘Then I suppose the sooner we get there the better.’ Still holding his small hands, she stood up and helped him do the same. She willed her voice into cheerfulness ‘Lead the way, _ma falon!’_

‘What does that mean?’

‘It elvish for ‘friend’’ Her answer made his face light up like Orlesian fireworks in the sky. 

‘She’s right up there!’ Edric pointed towards a mountain, not far off from where they stood. 

‘Shiiiii…. Fenedhis,’ she muttered, glad that the boy didn’t speak elvish.

The towering mountain was right in front of them. However, there was a small problem: to get to the top, they would have to climb. In a more normal situation, Ellana would have been perfectly content with doing just that, heck she could’ve even taken down a bear or a wolf or even a demon on her way…

Not hundreds of them…

It was quite the display, really; she spotted demons of fear, pride, despair, envy and other types that she couldn’t label. She even spotted some fire-heads like the two who’d almost got them before. 

_This is unfortunate…_

 ‘Well,’ the Inquisitor grumbled, ‘we’d better start climbing.’

 

 

                                        

 


	6. The Climb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New strengths. Facing dangers. Shocking revelations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image source: http://www.fanpop.com/clubs/dragons/images/13975628/title/dragon-wallpaper-wallpaper

It was a good thing that demons were mostly stupid.

Once again, Solas’ advice had saved Ellana’s life and she thanked her stars that she had been there when he told Blackwall how to survive a demon attack. _Demons are rarely intelligent enough to change their tactics. If you focus on defending yourself, you will see the full range of their abilities within the first thirty heartbeats. By then, you should be able to find a weakness and exploit it._ Fortunately, that applied to their scouting movements as well, and so as long as the trio kept quiet and stayed hidden they were able to slip around them in one piece.

They were halfway up when Edric, who was holding Tom, found a large boulder in a corner; it was leaning on the mountain walls making a small shelter with an even smaller entrance. He gestured at it and silently, the pair made their way towards it and squeezed themselves into the cramped spot between the huge rock and the walls of the mountain. 

The blonde dwarf looked around for any threats before facing the elf. ‘Why aren’t you using your magic?’

‘What do you want me to do?’

‘I don’t know… can’t you make us invisible or… kill all the demons?’ The boy frowned at her in frustration. ‘Anything!’

Ellana suddenly noticed how unnaturally pale his skin had become, as if someone had covered him with flour from head to toe. The blue in his eyes and yellow of his hair had become soft and delicate and so pale it reminded her of the pastel flowers that her sister adored so much. The dwarf’s hands were shaking no matter how much he tried to contain their tremor, and his gaze was fixed on her, waiting for an answer. The tomcat didn’t look any better.

‘It appears,’ she pointed out (cunningly) ‘that you and your kitty get paler when you’re scared.’

‘Don’t change the subject!’ he whispered franticly. ‘Why aren’t you using your magic?’ 

The Dalish elf sighed and confessed ‘I’m… not really a mage.’

She felt a pang of guilt at the way his eyes widened. ‘But I’ve seen you! _You froze_ two demons right in front of me!’

‘Yeah, about that…’ She tried to lace her tone with her sincerity. ‘I don’t really know how I did that.’

‘Well,’ Edric said, shoulders relaxing a little, ‘at least you have the gift. All you have to do is to know how to use it.’

‘I hate to be the one to burst your bubble, but,’ she waved her hands in a circle in front of her, palms open and fingers pointing to the ground ‘we’re on a mountain. Alone.’

The dwarf ignored her completely as he put his thumbs and index fingers to his temples and closed his eyes. He opened his eyes a minute later ‘Magical theory suggests…’

‘Ummm, what?’

_What in the world would a boy who was impressed by some accidental magic know about magical theory?_ She wished desperately for Dorian to be with her.

‘Just listen!’ he urged, exasperated. ‘Magic comes from within you, especially from memories or emotions. Then you have to form and gather it.’

He grasped her marked hand with tiny cold fingers. ‘Then you have to give it shape with your own will or the emotion itself will shape it for you.’

‘Try to make a small flame.’ His eyes bored into hers.

The warm memory came to Ellana easily and in her mind she was back at Skyhold having a drink with Bull at Herald’s Rest. She could remember the sound of his laughter, loud and guttural, mixed with her own, filling the tavern as Maryden’s sweet voice faded into the background. She remembered how she had the _absolute worst_ hangover the next day when Solas had made her tea and even drank it with her in hopes that she’d improve before the war council meeting. The Inquisitor had sat down with the Qunari the night before and toasted for bad drinks.

She remembered how her insides scorched as the drink made its way to her stomach.

And just like that she felt the magic rise up. 

She felt the fire the drink had left inside of her as vividly as if she’d just put the cup down. Ellana closed her eyes and tried to focus on the heat. She began to feel the energy build up again, just like back at Val Royeaux. This time she prodded at it gently, gathering and coaxing the warmth into her hand. She felt the energy pooling and she let it out of her palm before it could build up a momentum.

They both looked at her palm with awe as a small flame flickered above it. It felt alive and warm. _It’s like a little heartbeat…_

Suddenly, they heard a screech and both of their heads snapped up to the source to find a dumb, stupid, annoying shade shrieking wildly at them, consequently alerting every other dumb, stupid, annoying demon on the mountain to their presence.

Ellana snuffed out the fire and grabbed Edric. She squeezed their bulk farther in towards the corner as the shade started trying to claw at them, grateful for the protection of the huge boulder offered them. The shade’s claw closed on thin air and she desperately hoped it would move on.

She should’ve learned by now that luck was not her ally. 

The demon screeched louder and her heart stopped as she heard a million other demons’ howling voices coming closer. The demons gathered around the boulder, banging on it savagely and clawing their way inside. Beside her she heard Edric squeal.

_Focus, Ellana!_ She held out her palm towards the opening and thought of her battle with Samson, the heat of the red lyrium crackling around them on her skin and the way the fight had set her blood aflame. It was difficult to guide the energy and to stay focused. _How do mages do it so effortlessly?_ She waited for the pressure to build and ten heartbeats later she released an inferno at the demons. Hot green fires obscured her vision as it seared everything in its path. Without waiting for retaliation, she stepped out of their makeshift shelter, stretched her palm upwards, and opened a rift right above the demons around them.

A ball of green energy materialized from thin air and drew Fade life to it; the rift sucked the life out of every demon around them, picking them off one by one, and relief washed through Ellana’s exhausted body as she led Edric out of hiding.

They tried to make their way up but the demons were too numerous, and as soon as the Fade rift disappeared, they charged. More and more of them came at them and all that magic had already drained her. _There’s just too many of them!_ Ellana felt the boy go stiff next to her and she embraced him. She closed her eyes tightly and hoped that their end would at least be swift.

Then she heard a roar.

 A bone-rattling, ear-piercing, core-shaking, earth-shattering roar sounded in the air around them and the demons scattered away from them. The evil spirits glided towards the voice and Edric broke away from her. He stared into the sky and jumped up and down as he let out a small cry of joy. Ellana, on the other hand, was a bit more apprehensive about the dragon in the sky…

 It was a magnificent beast, at least five times bigger than any of the high dragons that she’d fought. Its scales were the color of bloodstone, scarlet with small wisps of black, and spikes protruded from its entire body except for the belly. The mighty creature landed on the mountain, crushing most of the demons in the process. It let out another mighty roar and a column of fire, red and angry, shot out of its mouth and burned the remaining demons.

 Laughter bubbled from Edric as he grabbed Ellana’s hand and started dragging her towards the _terrifying_ looking monster. She planted her feet firmly on the ground _. I’ll be damned if I let him get me a step closer to that thing._

 'What are you doing?’ she demanded.

 ‘We have to get out of here before more of them come!’ He started pulling harder on her hand and she pulled back. The boy didn’t give up and it turned into the weirdest tug-of-war that she had ever played.

‘Yeah, going to the dragon that crushed them is _not_ a good idea!’ Her frustration was growing by the second.

She felt herself fly backwards and land on her ass as the boy let go of her hand. Pain shot through her lower back as she saw Edric turn to the dragon. ‘Can I tell her your name now? _Please.’_ He stretched the last word as he put on on his best _baby halla_ face and the dragon grunted.

The dwarf grabbed her hand again and helped her get up. Ellana decided to try to reason with him before he could start dragging her again. ‘We should still find the woman you mentioned before we leave.’

‘That’s her! The one who knows everything.’ Edric pointed at the dragon. ‘Razikale!’

An Old god of Tevinter….

Did she really need to say _Fenedhis_ this time?

 

 

 

               

 


	7. The Torture Chamber

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Future possibilites. Forgotten past. Unmasking deception.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art: Down The Rabbit Hole from Alice In the Wonderlan's concept art by Mary Blair

Surviving a blast that killed everyone else in the area? _Check_.

Becoming the holy Herald of Andraste despite being a Dalish elf? _Check_.

Joining a revived Inquisition and becoming its leader? _Check_.

Ending not one, but two civil wars? _Check_.

Meeting _the_ elvhen goddess? _Check_.

Stopping a darkspawn magister from becoming a god? _Check_. 

Riding on the back of an old goddess of Tevinter with the clouds beneath her feet? **_Check_**.

Oh, if only her companions could see her now…

The dragon landed on the highest mountaintop in sight, leaving hundreds of feet between them and even the highest clouds. Silently, Ellana tried not to look down as she collected Edric’s sleeping form in her arms; he was clutching the yellow fur-ball like a toy. Razikale stretched her wings to the side and allowed the elf to slide on them until she reached the solid ground.

As soon as the heat of the dragoness left her, she felt the cold wind whirling wildly and the icy air pricking at the back of her neck so hard she started shivering.

Razikale swiftly vanished into a giant hot steam cloud and the surrounding air suddenly became warm and clammy as the white mist covered Ellana’s vision, but before she even had a chance to sweat, the vapor rushed towards a spot in front of the elf and the moisture that was threatening to choke her vanished, leaving only the warmth. 

The new cloud of miasma before her bundled into the shape of a Qunari woman. She was the most majestic thing that Ellana had ever seen; her skin was the color of polished steel, glowing softly like a candle humming with a silvery light. Her hair, like her pearly great horns, reminded Ellana of the inside of an oyster shell and the way its hues changed color with the light. It tumbled down her back like a waterfall until it reached her wide hips. The ancient goddess was clad in glimmering scarlet armor adorned with onyx and black opals.

She wore a sly smile as she regarded the elf with unsettling black eyes.

Not dark eyes. Pitch black. 

Ellana felt another shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

They reminded her of deep wells and why children shouldn’t play near them. Power dripped from every inch of her and the former Inquisitor’s skin started to prickle as fear and awe fought within her.

Ellana’s tongue twisted itself into knots as Edric’s weight in her arms suddenly became a lot heavier and a familiar sense of panic grasped her heart. She was standing in front of an old god, one like Dumat whom Corypheus served as a high priest. And said goddess knew all about her plan to destroy the magister.

_OhCreatorsOhCeatorsOhCreatorsOhCreators!_

Razikale regarded her coolly for a few moments, her smile only widening. _She’s enjoying this! Shit! Fenedhis! Shit!_ Would the anchor even work on a being with that much power? This was bad, really bad. If she opened a rift that was too big she’d also be risking bringing the dragon into the physical realm. Maybe if she’d…

Her thoughts were interrupted by a throaty laugh and Razikale spoke, and even though her voice was quiet it did not take away in the least from its presence. ‘Peace, Herald. I mean you no harm.’

‘Blow me.’ Her mouth worked before her mind even had a chance.

Razikale’s smile vanished. ‘If I wanted to hurt you then why would I go to the trouble of rescuing you from all those demons?’

‘Well, maybe Corypheus wants me alive in case…’ 

The goddess interrupted her again. ‘You believe that _I_ serve _him_? A mere priest?’ Her smile returned again. ‘One forgets how amusing it is to watch mortals flail for answers. They often reach the most _ridiculous_ conclusions.’

_She makes a good point. Besides, I’m already dead and if she’s not delivering me to Corypheus…_

‘Yeah, alright,’ Ellana muttered, and she found a nice corner to set down Edric. Then she faced Razikale. ‘But before I agree to anything I have some questions of my own.’

‘I do not usually give information freely, but under these circumstances…’ The she-dragon regarded her calculatingly. ‘It seems only fair.’ 

‘Why are you doing this?I thought helping Corypheus would be something that you’d prefer.’ 

‘And why is that?’ 

‘Well,’ Ellana said, trying to recall everything that Dorian had ever told her about Tevinter lore, ‘You encouraged him to enter the Black City the first time.’ 

‘Yes, but not to declare himself a god,’ the Qunari-looking woman answered. ‘I’m sure you can figure it out.’ 

Ellana thought about it for a moment. Why wouldn’t Razikale, one of old gods of Tevinter, want Corypheus to achieve godhood? Wouldn’t that mean that they would have a powerful ally? He had called for Dumat’s aid during their final battle even though he said that the gods were all lies, which had to mean that somehow, he still believed in them.

‘Corypheus wanted to become a god because he believed he could do a better job at it,’ Ellana guessed. ‘If he believes that you exist, then he must hate you.’ 

Razikale hummed in approval and she took it as a sign to continue.

‘He’s also a darkspawn, meaning that he can taint others.’ She felt her heart stop as she reached a horrifying conclusion. ‘If he becomes a god, he won’t settle for a red lyrium dragon who looks like an archdemon. He’ll want the real deal.’ 

The dragon lady spoke, her tone acerbic. ‘Yes, revenge against those who abandoned him, a new pet, and another Blight that he might just be able to command, all at once.’ She pursed her lips. ‘Quaint. Is it not?’ 

 _Maybe she does have a point…_  

‘Fine, I’ll listen to what you have to say,’ Ellana decided. ‘But on one condition.’

Razikale regarded her stoically and for a moment in a silent challenge, daring her to give her an order.

Ellana’s blood ran cold.

 _Master your body. Rule your face. Harden your heart to a cutting edge. Never submit._ She took her challenge and stared her straight in her lightless eyes, suppressing the urge to flee or kneel in terror. ‘You reveal any truth I ask of you. Starting with what happened to Edric before he came into the Fade.’

‘You don’t know what you ask of me.’ Razikale’s voice was empty, haunting.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I am Razikale. I am Mystery. If there is a secret that lies between no more than two people then I will know it. If there is an ancient knowledge that becomes forgotten then I will remember it’ she declared. ‘However, I am not a being of free will. I cannot share all that I know, child. This may be hard for a mortal to understand but some things are better left unsaid.’

‘If you don’t decide what you may reveal,’ Ellana asked, ‘then who does?’

Razikale blinked, cocking her head to the side. ‘I cannot say.’ 

_Great! I finally find someone who actually has an idea about what is happening and dumb rules get in the way!_

For the first time Ellana wished that she had drunk from the well; the knowledge and power that it granted would’ve been beyond vital. The elf took a deep breath and reminded herself why she didn’t do it, that she swore that no one would take away her freedom no matter the cost and it was a fate she wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy. She would’ve taken the brunt of its whispers if she weren’t so angry at Morrigan for leaving the group and disrespecting the temple after Ellana had gone to complete the rituals despite the grumblings of most of her companions. Instead, she watched with a smile on her face as the wood witch drank away her freedom, all for the sake of _knowledge_. Oh, how cunning she thought she was. 

 _Damn me and my stupid pride!_  

‘Well, you can’t tell Edric a thing because you’re not allowed too, but I can,’ Ellana decided.

Razikale’s eyes shifted to Edric ‘I cannot tell you, for he might wake and hear us, but I can show you.’ She looked back to Ellana. ‘Are you certain you want to see this? Once I’ve showed you something you will not be able to forget it.’

Was it really wise to see this? Just looking into Razikale’s eyes had made Ellana’s thoughts wander to her darker childhood fantasies. Maybe looking into something that the goddess herself was warning her about wasn’t the best idea. 

‘Do it,’ she decided. 

‘Very well.’ Razikale’s voice was suddenly louder, distorted, as if a thousand people were speaking at once.

Suddenly, the she-dragon’s pearly hair grew longer, flowing out of her head like running water and hovering about her instead of reaching the floor. The iridescent tresses floated through the air towards Ellana, slithering around her like a snake and gliding smoothly on her skin. 

Ellana wanted to scream but when she opened her mouth, the hair crept into it and her throat burned as pale locks made their way through it. Soon she realized that the hair was slipping through every orifice in her head, claiming all of her faculties as part of it. 

And one by one all of her senses disappeared until she could no longer sense anything around her but Razikale, pouring Edric’s memories into her. 

_No!_

She was looking straight into hell, and she could not look away.

 

* * *

 

 For as long as Edric could remember, Magister Porenni had kept him in that room. His son Marius often came with him, and he could dimly hear as the old man and his child speculated about magic.

Crimson oozing out everywhere, eyes swollen shut, sticky hair clinging limply to his skull. He felt a strange mixture of pain and numbness, his throat burned yet his limbs felt heavy, as if they were made out of lead, and scary shadows danced beneath his eyelids. ‘Pain is good. Fear is good,’ the magister would say. ‘Any emotion is good’.

Is that why they hurt the elven slave boy who snuck him food?

_Mahnon. His name was Mahnon…_

He never understood what the man wanted from him. He would sometimes dangle Edric and cut his throat, letting him bleed out before he made him drink glowing water that sang and burned his throat. The screams would come from deep within his chest, rabid animalistic cries that would turn into croaky moans and wheezes when they came out.

Other times he would burn parts of his body and douse them with the water, and a sonata of searing stings would play on his skin.

Waiting for him to come was always the hardest part. Edric would always try to find a place to hide, he would pray to every god he’d ever heard of. And sometimes he thought that maybe, just maybe if he stayed in the shadows long enough then he would disappear forever.

_Tis’ but a nightmare, I’ll wake up any second now…_

It was the hardest part, but not the worst one.

The magister was nothing next to his son.

Marius healed his wounds and took away his pain. He gave him food, kept him warm, and cleaned away the filth. He told him stories, smiled at him, held his hand and kept him company.

Every now and then, the human boy would truly care for him. 

And then he would give him back to his father the next day.

Strapped to a wheel, spinning through misery and happiness, over and over and over again.

_Please kill me, just let me die…_

 

* * *

 

 As soon as Razikale released her, Ellana ran to the edge of the mountaintop and heaved. Nothing came out but she heaved some more anyway. The roiling of her stomach and the wetness on her face had nothing to do with food. Crouching, she buried her face in her icy hands and trembled like a leaf in the wind as she tried to stifle her cries.

She gave up and started sobbing, hoping it would stop her shaking.

It only made it worse.

Ellana’s heart was thrashing in her chest like a caged raptor and her mind was still buzzing with what she had learned. She saw the crimson that covered everything, smelled its scent, like raw iron and earth, heard the woeful screams, tasted the salty tears and felt nothing but painful prickling on her skin.

‘I warned you not to do this. Some things _should_ be forgotten,’ Razikale said, her voice coming from a distance as if she was underwater.

‘WHY?’ Ellana howled as she turned around. She had never felt this much disgust and fury in her life. ‘Why would anyone do this to a child? What could possibly justify that?’

‘They had a theory, you see.’ Razikale’s voice became soft, like the blunt edge of a knife. ‘They believed that dwarves couldn’t dream because they gave away all their magic to the stone, making it sing with life.’

‘Lyrium,’ Ellana said dryly. 

The goddess nodded. ‘Of course that is not the case, but they were determined to prove that lyrium was all that dwarves needed to enter the Fade.’

‘I still don’t understand!’ Ellana’s voice took an edge again, the images of Edric’s pain fresh in her mind. ‘What does this have to do with hurting him?’ 

‘Emotions are a fine gateway to magic, and negative ones are often the easiest way. And if one’s mind is broken, the Fade becomes that much more accessible.’

‘It’s still sick and wrong!’ the elf grumbled.

‘What’s done is done,’ Razikale said. ‘The true question here is not in his past.’

‘What is the question then?’ Ellana asked, confused.

Razikale turned her head towards Edric’s sleeping form, an awakened Tom sitting diligently by his side. 

‘When he asks you about it, what will you tell him?’ She looked at her again, and deep black pools bored into her eyes. ‘Will you give him what he wants? Or what he needs?’ 

* * *

 

They had been sitting quietly for quite sometime now. Ellana actively ignored Razikale, trying to focus on practicing her magic instead. _Anything else would be better_. Every once in a while Edric would stir and the elf’s head would flick towards him before settling back into looking at the ground.

Razikale’s eyes stalked her silently, true to her predatory nature. 

An eternity later, Ellana gave up on trying to concentrate on anything and turned to the old goddess. ‘Don’t you have anything better to do than look at me like that? It’s very distracting!’ She huffed.

Razikale simply stared at her as if she was a beggar, pity and distaste drawn on her face.

‘There’s more.’ A sense of dread filled her. ‘Isn’t there?’

‘Yes. In order to hone your new abilities, you must know why you have them.’

Ellana had assumed that she could do magic because she was simply a remnant of her older self, a Fade creature. _Still, that doesn’t sound so bad…_

‘Then why are you looking at me like I’m a wet dog?’ 

‘These abilities are not your own’ Razikale declared ‘They are simply a manifestation of your son’s magic going through you.’

_No. Andie was insane._

‘You’re lying!’ Ellana accused, her voice frigid, she clasped her hands in a fist that made so hard that her knuckles turned white.

‘I thought we agreed I was not to lie, Herald.’ She kept watching her with that _gaze,_ that _sickening_ pity. She hated her for it. 

_No. Razikale is lying._

‘You’re lying! Why should I trust _you_ above all that I know? You, the evil ancient god of secrets!’ She felt panic stir within her like a hurricane, threatening to sweep her into frenzy. ‘How could I even be carrying his child? I’m dead! I’ve never even met him!’

‘You have,’ Razikale replied, unperturbed. ‘He had a different name.’ 

_No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No.No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No.No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No.No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No._

‘Solas, I believe it was?’ Razikale regarded her, a brutal smile spreading on her face. ‘Yes, Solas. That was the name used by Fen’harel, the Dread Wolf.’

 

 

                                                              


	8. The Wolf and The Halla

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revelations. Memories. Decisions
> 
> Artwork: The Dread and The Halla by AriMabari on DeviantArt
> 
> http://arimabari.deviantart.com/art/The-Dread-Wolf-and-the-Halla-515165577

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly, my beta wasn't able to edit this one =/ So I apologize for any mistakes and I hope you enjoy it all the same ;)
> 
> Surprisingly, Trespasser confirmed 99.99% of my headcannon which is super cool as a fan but it kind of spoiled some of the plot twists in this story. Good news is the only part that I'll have to retcon to match the DLC actually works better retconed! So yaaaaaayyyyyyy...
> 
> Also there's a couple of (pretty obvious) shoutouts to 2 ASOIAF stories that I love: the assassin's apprentice by Winterlyn dow and Direwolf and Dragon by Crossingwinter in case you saw something familiar.
> 
> Anyhooo, on with the story!

If Ellana had learned this on a day where she was well rested and well fed, or at least a day where she wasn’t battered around like an overused plaything, she would have probably took the news a lot better.

Unfortunately for her, today isn’t that day.

‘It was indiscreet to go by that name though’ Razikale brought a hand to her chin, lost in her musings ‘You’d think the trickster wolf would use a different name than his own’ 

Ellana’s knees buckled beneath her so quickly she hardly felt it move, her mind barely registered her knees thudding on the stone ground and pain shooting through until it burned through her legs.

‘You’re lying! I don’t care what you promised before! You.Are.Lying.’ She heard her voice, accusing with all the calm of a madwoman. 

 _But it all fits so well_. A lump started to form in her throat as she remembered the wolf jawbone necklace that he always wore around his neck. 

It was all too convenient; a random apostate mage, who is also the only expert on the fade, shows up just when the breach appears. An elf who is not from the city, who’s not Dalish or a slave and who spoke perfect Elvehn. He just happened to know that the orb, his true purpose (and apparently his only reason to stay with the inquisition), was a foci of the ancient elven magic and he’s the one who brought her to Skyhold, a place of ancient -and probably elven- magic, a place that already had a working eluvian which was, _big surprise_ , a product of ancient elven magic.

Why was the world spinning like that? Is it another pattern of the fade? 

It dawned on her that during the ball of Halamshiral, when he was strangely dark and wore a Cheshire cat’s grin, he had told her to _hunt well._

Ellana drew in a horrified breath as she realized that back then, she actually thought that this side of him was quite _alluring_ …

Nothing he ever told her was true…

 _You stupid, foolish girl! Did you really think it was ever real? That he ever really cared even after he left you twice now? Did you think that because you loved him and trusted him that you were important to him?_  

She should’ve known better than to believe that someone like him could actually exist without any trickery in the matter. It was just to good to be true…

When people were too much alike or too different, it usually bred trouble. Solas on the other hand was like her and different from her in all the right places and in all the right ways, and he seemed like a puzzle piece crafted specifically to fit her. 

_Because he was._

Did he even ever want her if only to get into her bed? Or did he think it was simply the best way to get close to her? Either way, she was a casual dalliance at best and an annoying obstacle at the worst. _You asinine, thick, naïve idiot!_

He had looked so sincere and his sorrow and love had felt so deep when she got back from Adamant and held him tight and _promised_ him that he will never have to be alone again, resolve resonating through her. Oh how he must have been pleased with himself when he claimed her that night for the first time.

Ellana let out a shaky breath as she realized that she had let The Dread Wolf, The Bringer of Nightmares and the terror of her people …She had let him…

That she was carrying his son.

She was apart from herself.

That’s really the only way to describe it, when someone feels like they’re was lounging safely somewhere in the back of their mind, watching themselves unravel. Her hands wrapped around her belly while her body shuddered violently with revulsion and strangled, broken noises escaped her.

She carried Fen’harel’s spawn. 

 _His_ spawn.

 _His son and my own._  

Her boy, her poor boy, what crime did he commit to pay for her own stupidity? _To be born to such a father?_

It matters not now, for they are both dead. 

 _Get your shit together now!_ She ordered herself, forced her chest to rise and fall slowly and counted her breaths. She closed her eyes and let her mind drift to somewhere comforting, a place where Sera would let out an unapologetic laugh, or where Blackwall would sit quietly and carve griffon toys for the children in Skyhold.

 _Cassandra. Vivienne. Cole. Bull. Varric. Dorian. Josephine. Leliana. Cullen._  

Her body stopped shaking. 

She was back to her senses once more, hunched and hugging herself, thick warm tears finally flowing down her cheeks unchecked. 

‘Are you quite done now?’ Razikale scoffed at her, clearly annoyed ‘I haven’t even begun to tell you anything!’ 

A fine selection of Tevene words, courtesy of a certain Tevintar scholar, were on the tip of her tongue. But she suddenly felt a light weight on her shoulder and she looked up to see Edric staring at her, worry and fear etched on his face and her anger was muzzled.

_I must have woken him up._

So instead she growled and poured as much venom into her glare as possible.

Suddenly, her anchor flared to life and it felt hot and angry as green energy burst from it, not like the sleek tendrils that poured into the rifts, instead it looked like a newborn star, jagged and violent, had burst from her palm. 

Yet it did not hurt her.

Razikale stared at her hand, eyes wide and alarmed ‘You’ll entice the demons little one, I cannot tell your mother any more of this, it is not a tale that should be said aloud. Other things live in the fade.’

The light only burned brighter.

_He could control my anchor all this time? Why hasn’t he before?_

_Did he do it so he wouldn’t scare me?_

‘Very well!’ Razikale looked vexed ‘I will show her, but afterwards she listens to what she must do and she _does_ it. No more of this!’

Satisfied with her answer, the anchor’s light was snuffed out.

‘What just-‘

Razikale did not bother to wait for her to finish the question ‘I can show you inside of the Dread Wolf’s mind if it will make you more reasonable.’ The irritation on her face was crystal clear ‘ However if you don’t wish it then do control yourself and let’s get on with this.’

Get inside his head? Did she really want to do that? Out of any head that she could’ve chosen to dive in, this particular one was… _menacing_.

Never mind the fact that he was an ancient god. Or the fact that he was messed up enough to destroy his own people. She was scared of what she might find because she still had hope.

Oh Creators have mercy, she had hope.

As long as she stayed blissfully unaware, then the truth could never touch her. It could never oppress her with its _detestable_ validity and she could always go on believing whatever she wanted to believe and it would be just as real as the truth.

But that was not her, it never was and it never will be her.

Hope was never running away from the ugliness of truth, it was facing it head on despite knowing you would probably walk away losing.

What remained of her was probably going to be shattered into a million little pieces, but she still had hope all the same. 

_Let me see for myself and let me learn from the pain._

‘All right then, let’s do this’ She looked straight into the black irises, ignoring the shiver going down her spine ‘Take me inside Fen’harel’s head.’

Razikale’s hair had made it’s way down Ellana’s throat before she could even finish her question, bringing back the uncomfortable feeling of dry sandpaper in every orifice it occupied. Somewhere in the distance, she heard Edric gasp.

And in a second, everything around her disappeared.

* * *

* * *

He was the moon, he was the wilderness, he was the swift wind gusting through the forest in the dead of the night. Wildness. Dreams. Pride. Freedom. Rebellion. Trickery. Dread. 

Fen’harel.

His nights were never his own. They belonged to their secret prayers at night when no one else could hear them, their desperate whispers carried in the breeze. They belonged to the tears soaking their pillows, to the wails begging for mercy, longing to feel the sun on an unmarred face. The wolf’s nights belonged to the people, always to the people. But that was fine because the wolf loved the people more than anything else.

* * *

 

Oh, how he loved playing games… 

The wolf danced with Mythal in one of their balls and she smirked at him ‘ Sylaise will not be pleased when she discovers your plan.’

He laughed and a howling sound escaped him ‘As long as no blood is shed the I don’t see the problem’

‘Surely you must have some other way to free your supplicants without such trickery’

The Wolf’s jaws clenched for the _slightest_ moment, then a smile graced his lips. The words came out lightly, softly even ‘And what would that be? Perhaps a war to end the oppressors?’

It was Mythal’s turn to stiffen, clutching his shoulders a little harder ‘You mustn’t speak like that, not here. You know better than anyone how they’ve all been craving a new war.’

The Wolf suddenly felt fire flare in his chest ‘Maybe it’s the only way. All organizations are bound to fall eventually, you all sit here and pretend that you’re better than our equals of the void but you are just the same, crushing the people under your heels, when we are no better than them, and all for your own pettiness.’ His tone almost betrayed the storm in his heart ‘If this is the only way to free the people from this _travesty_ , then why not take it? At least they will die proud and for their own sake. What else could they possibly have but war? ‘

‘Hope’ she almost whispered it like a secret ‘They will always have hope.’

‘Hope is a delusion’ The wolf donned his mask again ‘Hope is the food they give to cattle to fatten them for slaughter. It is a charming notion but the truth is that no succor is going to fall out of the sky.’

The All-Mother gave him a fond smile ‘You are still so young and proud, still the rebellion but not the revolution,’ she let him twirl her across the marble floor like a top, her gown swooshing around them like a wave ‘No matter what you believe, know this: As long as there is justice, there is hope.’

He let his eyes wander across the ballroom and he watched the dancers spin. They were so harmonious and beautiful, like exquisite figurines on a royal music box. How could so much misery lead to such beauty?

_Beauty masking rot…_

The Wolf thought her too optimistic but still, only Mythal could keep the others from completely destroying the people. And as long as the music’s playing, people dance.

She was right about one thing thought.

By the coy looks Andruil was giving him again, another war was probably on the way…

* * *

 

Mythal is dead. 

Mythal was killed.

He was truly alone now.

Fuck.

Who would a god beg for succor?

Something must be done before all is lost. Quickly, before they rise and destroy everyone. _There is no other way._ The wolf had planned this for a long time, he had crafted the perfect prison but Mythal had stopped him from using it.

Surely she would understand that he _had_ to before disaster strikes.

_For the people. For freedom._

_For Mythal._

He put his brethren to sleep; he veiled them from the world and slumbered in uthenera. No more gods, not even him, no more favored, no more masters and slaves, no more wars of petulant tyrants, no more root for corruption and oppression. Only the people, standing tall and free and _proud._

A fresh start. A clean slate.

As warmth and darkness descended upon him, the Wolf finally allowed himself a smile.

* * *

When he opened his eyes, the world had turned into a nightmare. 

Gone was the proud wolf’s pack.

In their place stood shemlen with pointy ears, nothing like the people, these quicklings did not even have magic. Divided among themselves and hating their own, the quicklings did not know what they should have been

Deformed, slaves, flat-ears and savages.

Such were what was left of his people.

And even then the only thing keeping them barely _alive_ was pride.

_Have you remade them in your image, wolf?_

Where everything was once singing with life, it was now silent, tranquil and dead. It was not real, _could not_ be real. Everything’s very nature was too twisted, too alien. This _world_ and its people were an ugly horrific phantasm. Depressing. Lifeless. Inert.

It was like being forced to gaze at a fresh carcass.

Severing the fade from the rest of the world, what did he expect it would bring? His kin’s blood was on his hand, all because of his recklessness and pride. _But I only wanted to free them._ The wolf was truly and utterly alone and the thought of it turned his blood to ice.

* * *

 Trying to interact was a bad idea. 

Humans hunt him for doing what is as natural to him as drawing breath, most of the dwarves can’t even hear the call of the stone, strange ox-men thugs are conquering the world into near slavery, even spirits, the helpers of the people, are fearful stranger frowned upon as if they were demons, and the elves…

One must not speak of the old ways lest they taste _Fen’harel’s teeth._

The Wolf closed his eyes for a moment and allowed himself to miss home, where everything was connected, warmer, colorful and _so_ much brighter, where the people still lingered and loved him as he loved them, where Mythal was alive and well…

He hated this.

He hated all of it.

_Only proud wolves can wear their pelts._

The wolf would get his pack back, one way or another.

He was still too weak to unlock his foci. 

Time for a trick.

* * *

 

What is happening?

The veil is torn.

Demons are pouring out.

The orb is lost.

And so is the anchor.

He had underestimated the shemlen’s craftiness.

Was there an end to his failures?

For the first time in forever, there is literally nothing that the wolf could do.

* * *

 

A snow-white Halla fell from the sky.

More like from a hole in the universe, but it doesn’t really matter right now.

What matters is the radiant mark on her hand, _his_ anchor, glowing with _his_ magic.

This was…intriguing.

It could go either way; the Halla could either save those around her or damn them. In all cases the wolf had to meet her, he needed to guide her and to keep his magic from killing her before she fixes yet another one of his mistakes.

So either his magic kills her and he leaves (most likely) or she lives through it and changes, well, everything.

Strangely enough, the shemlen woman let him near her. And so the black Wolf sat vigil by the Halla. He eased the thrum of the emerald magic crackling around it, eyes fixed on her palm in a ferocious concentration.

Well, ferocious is a strong word.

The Wolf’s eyes did wonder just a little bit, only for the sake of curiosity. How this little Halla bore his magic and survived was something that intrigued him to no end.

Observation also allowed him to establish that perhaps there was a certain charm to her looks. Her beauty was not the kind that murals and statues and noblewomen possessed. No, she was beautiful in the same way one could only call a doe or a fox beautiful, lithe and nimble with soft muscles all over her body and so very _alive_. Her vallaslin drew his attention to the way said muscles moved slightly with her breathing; it dipped down to the inside of her collar, rippling with the soft rise and fall of her chest _._

He wondered what would her eyes look like? 

Fascinating.

Dangerous and so very wrong.

But fascinating. 

 

* * *

Well, that was unexpected.

The little Halla, without an ounce of magic to call her own, had played with his power like it was made of dough. The Wolf had to show her how to close a rift only once, and then she ran off and closed three in a row each time more proficiently than before.

But it was not only that which surprised him, it was the fact that everyone seemed to let go of what _they_ wanted and heed _her_ , a mere prisoner, one that is only kept alive by the grace of the magic coursing through her.

How long would it be before she wakes up and discovers what she now commands? Before the temptations of power entice her as they do to all those who wield it? Before she abuses whatever authority her divine position and her new magic grant her to dominate others and declare herself their superior?

Such is the way it happens to everyone, he would imagine that it would even be worse with people disconnected from each other like the natives of this world. 

 

* * *

Her eyes looked like two disks made of the sun.

They were at their most brilliant when she was fighting or learning about things that probably wouldn’t do her any good. The Wolf liked how they looked.

It was so strange how the Halla had listened to him prattle about the fade and its spirits when everyone else seemed to be terrified by it’s mere existence. Not only that but she seemed to accept that spirits are people too and that all magic, even the shadier kind, was not inherently bad. She was still Dalish through and through, and defended her heritage _proudly._ But even so, she listened.

Why would she listen?

The Halla looked at him with a twinkle in her eyes and flirted, quite coyly.

Oh, _that’s_ why?

Well, making an enemy out of her wouldn’t do any good to furthering any of his plans so he indulges her for now.

He was not going to lead her on though, that would be unbecoming.

He would just have to not cross the line.

Easy enough.

* * *

 He should perhaps get used to the fact that the little Halla was a confounding creature and move on.

They go to the Hinterlands to seal rifts and spread their name; she helps every single person she meets way past the point of furthering any goals. They don’t even have to be in need of something crucial, sometimes it would be something as simple as putting flowers on a grave and sometimes she would have them running in circles until they find a corpse with a letter.

Quasi-Tranquil or not, people in general do not go that far to help anyone.

Her compassion and resilience were refreshing to say the least.

The Halla moves with such primal grace, so different from the kind he’s used to but even lovelier in its own way. This was not the type of delicate poise that comes from rigorous training until one becomes akin to a rose. This was the poise of red lions and fennecs; it comes to her as natural as breathing, and the Wolf cannot bring himself to look away as she wields a sword as tall as she as easily as she would wield a small dinner knife.

Another mystery to be solved, he supposes.

She was not just listening to please him, he found. The Halla had chosen to free the mages and ally with them; she had become fast friends with the mage from that snake pit of an empire. And above all, she willingly chose to let a spirit fight alongside her as an equal, trusting Compassion with her very life.

They had become steadfast companions over the past few weeks, she had wanted to learn about everything, had so many questions and the Wolf didn’t have the heart to turn her away so instead he told her everything he knew (well not _everything_ naturally), he answered all of her questions as best as he could and she surprised him again with how sharp her mind proved to be.

They would go well into the night with their talks.

The Wolf did not feel so alone on those nights. Talking about these things with her made him feel simple and clean again, like all the dullness of this world was suddenly oceans away.

The Halla was like a firefly, a barley blinking light against a black canvas.

And now he was leaving her behind with the crafty shemlen, certainly to meet her doom. Because of course _she_ would sacrifice herself to save them all.

Well the anchor had to go back one way or the other; at least this way she would die on her own accord.

He’s sure the pain in his chest will fade away soon enough.

* * *

 He was the moon, he was the wilderness, he was the swift wind gusting through the forest in the dead of the night.

And in his forest he was lord and ruler.

And in his forest she came to him, unbidden.

The Halla wore her hunting leathers the color of dried blood and over those a bright scarlet hooded cloak adorned her shoulders. In the crook of her elbow, she held a woven basket covered with a radiant white cloth. 

She looked like like a humming candle in his shadowy forest.

She saw the Wolf and gave him _that_ smile, the secret one that she only wore around him in private as she crouched in front of him, her arms extended in invitation. Her eyes shining with their curious brilliance.

By their own volition, his legs moved and his heart thrummed as he padded towards the hooded Halla .He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when her small arms wrapped around him, her warmth spreading through him and leaving a tingle as the sweet scent of dew and dawn reached the nose he buried in her neck. The Wolf let out a huff as the little Halla ruffled his fur and took his ears in her small fingers, cooing at him and making soft noises.

The basket dropped next to her.

His orb and Mythal’s head rolled out of it, her mouth agape and her hollow eyes accusing.

The Wolf bolted upright in his bed so fast that he’s sure he’s pulled every muscle in his back and that he’s going to regret it very much in the morning.

_It’s not real. It’s not real. It was all a dream._

It still didn’t stop him from scrambling away as if his bed had caught fire, and run towards the nearest teakettle in Skyhold.

It was all the result of his reckless actions in the fade.

His fingers touched his lips. The feeling of them against her own was…inexpressible. The feeling of static that bounded between them when she had kissed him and the electrical jolt that consumed when he had kissed her back was…

_Fenedhis! Damn you woman…_

The Wolf had told her that he had to reconsider and he had every intention of burying the subject in the ground, too much was on the line, including the little Halla’s young heart and pursuing her could bring nothing but trouble and pain.

And yet losing her…

It would mean losing the only shred of life that he could find in this suffocating world. It would mean losing the happiest feeling he’s ever had in all of his existence, it would mean not seeing her secret smile, the one that chased away the demons and spoke volumes about her mind and spirit, or indulging in that quiet intimacy where everything outside of their bubble was irrelevant.

_Infuriating, considerate, exasperating, insightful, courageous woman!_

Losing her was not only unbearable, it was unacceptable.

_Ar lath ma, vhenan._

* * *

 It was time to do the same for her.

The Halla was willing to protect him against all of Haven if need be, she did her absolute best to find Wisdom and consoled him when his friend faded. She filled his days with colors and laughter.

A glowing torch against the oppressing darkness.

But her light was faltering.

Her herd is gone and now she is all alone too.

She had been so utterly devoted to them that he half expected her to let out a furious war cry, tear the report to shreds and amass her army in a march to crush the duke of Wycome and his forces.

Instead, she hadn’t even shed a tear.

She did, however, lock herself up in her quarters. Refusing to even leave her bed or do the simplest tasks, all food that went to her room came back untouched, all attempts to distract her with work or cheer her up were in vain and mere days later, no one was allowed in her quarters any longer.

One did not live as long as he did without seeing this phenomenon, when a person loses all desire and motivation along with their will to live. When self-pity and hatred and guilt overpowered every part of them.

Yes the Wolf was quite aware indeed.

He waited for the night to come and used the secret passages that only he would remember. The room smelled musty and foul, which was only appropriate, considering that no one was allowed to come in for cleaning and that all the windows were shut.

He realized with a start, that the fireplace was long spent.

Wordlessly, he opened the windows, letting the cold air in. The lack of protest at the sudden cold was proof enough that she was awake.

He moved foreword.

He kneeled in front of the fireplace, cleaning away the remains of burned wood and the ash, and then he put in fresh logs and willed them to catch fire, filling the room with warmth once more.

Finally, he turned to the Halla and settled next to her as quietly as a shadow. The Wolf held her tight in his arms and only allowed himself to breath when he felt her fingers threading into his tunic.

There was a silent message in her gesture, a bitter disappointment in the fact that even with all her power, she could not protect her own, or perhaps she was disappointed in herself that her clan’s struggles had reached that point to begin with.

The Wolf on the other hand, only felt Quiet. White. Fury.

Only his duty and obligations stopped him from doing certain things to the duke of Wycome who dared cause her pain and try to break her enduring spirit.

_Painful things. Deserved things. Justly horrifying things._

But his resolve to keep to inaction was waning by the minute and threatening crack at any second.

At that very moment, had his little Halla shed even one tear, the entire might of Wycome’s forces would not have saved the wretch from the Dread Wolf’s wrath. Had she but whispered the duke’s name in his ear, he would need nothing else to gift her his head and he would have done it with a glad heart. Had she but asked it of him, he would have razed the city and burned it and dared _anyone_ in her world to question him about it.

When has it come to this?

His love for the people, his constant desire for change, his loyalty to his mission, his hatred for this new world, his longing for the old one: All what made the Wolf who he was…it was fated to be undone the day she snuck into his life like a thief. All the strings that bound his heart to these things were already being torn asunder like delicate cobweb caught in a storm, and in their place, cords of steel were twining around his heart, attaching it to her blithe pretty little fingers.

It was pure folly.

He couldn’t find it in himself to care.

‘What have you done to a Wolf, little Halla?’ He whispered the words against her forehead mournfully, in a silent howl of despair; she did not truly understand them of course and he hoped she would never have to. The Wolf murmured the words in a prayer with the tone of someone who was completely, desperately, terrifyingly and irredeemably lost ‘What have you done? What have you done? What have you done?’ 

* * *

 It is the biggest fight they ever had.

The Wolf is furious and the Halla is defensive and their gazes are so intense it’s a miracle that no lightning is actually crackling between them in her quarters.

He is not even certain how it started; all he knows is that currently the argument had led to her letting the Grey Wardens stay _and_ help the inquisition.

‘A cult? You call those who fight the blight with their lives a cult!’ She snapped.

‘They fight simply what they do not understand! And what would you call a group of people who would practice such disgusting rituals? Pray tell _da’len_!’ He demanded.

‘Even if they do not understand the darkspawn, one does not need to be an expert to understand mass murder and terror. If anything they are heroes for standing up to them. They wanted to help others and Corypheus used it against them, your anger is misplaced, _hahren!_ ’ She parried.

‘No, you are far too lenient with them. Being tricked does not release them from their responsibility; they were accomplices who knew exactly what they were doing and you just let them walk away without so much as a slap on the wrist! May I remind you _inquisitor_ , that they are still vulnerable to corruption? One that may be taking place now as we speak?’ He countered.

‘It’s not that simple, Wolf.’

‘Is it not? You treat these criminals as if they were champions! Do you honestly think that the world needs them that badly?’

‘Yes, I do.’ She admitted.

There was silence for a heartbeat before the Halla went on, her eyes piercing and determined.

‘Despite what you may think, the blight _is_ horrific and it _does_ kill anything in it’s way. It’s more than just a puzzle box that we’re hacking at because we don’t comprehend it. And when push comes to shove, the Grey wardens are the only ones who actually stand up to do something about it! I will not exile them only to have another blight sweep in twenty years later and kill everyone.’

‘But what they’ve done…’

‘ I did not give them pardon, only the chance to redeem themselves. They intended to save the world and were willing to sacrifice themselves for it. They tried to do good but ended up botching it, don’t you think someone like that deserves a chance for redemption?’

Oh, her words had struck deeper than she could ever know.

Suddenly the Wolf felt heavy and weary. All of it, all that he’d done was looking down on him through six glowing red eyes that peered over his shoulder. And he looked to a spot on the ground, hoping the Halla wouldn’t notice long enough for him to school his features back to neutrality and regain what he had left of his pride.

Before he could look back up however, he felt her small hands on his cheeks. She gently moved his head towards her, and he discovered that he was not ashamed to show her weakness when he saw the look on her face.

No judgment and no pity either.

Only pure affection and devotion. 

A beacon signaling him home.

‘Vhenan’ she murmured softly, hesitant ‘ I saw something when I was in the fade. Gravestones with one’s deepest fear etched on it’

The look in her eyes was one of resolute fierceness ‘ I swear to you emma lath, I _will not_ let you die alone.’ She gave him a long gentle kiss ‘Whatever happened before is in the past now. Ar lath ma, you need to know that.’

His eyes looked with her and his fingers trailed her jaw and then he was kissing her properly, his Halla was made to be kissed well and quite a lot and he intended her to know exactly how much he _desperately_ wanted to do just that until the day he dies.

And then his heart was drumming in his chest harder than it did when he fought wars against his brethren, harder then it did when he was hunting in his forest, harder then it did when he took his revenge and held back the sky. It hammered in his chest harder then it ever did in his life, which was quite ridiculous considering the amount of lovers that he kept and the number of terrifying moments that he experienced up until now.

But none of that was her.

Nothing could ever compare to her.

She was so warm and soft despite the frigid cold, and she smiled and moaned into his mouth when he held her. Because she was his and _Solas_ was hers, and when she cried out that she loved him he knew that she meant it, and her heart was pounding in her chest to the rhythm of his own, beating as one as her hair splayed around her head like a halo. She was always _so_ beautiful, but she had never looked quite so beautiful as now with her eyes so dark and skin so flushed and _this_ expression on her face.

When the Wolf held her afterword in his arms, It occurred to him that if it were his choice he would never leave this bed.

Only if…

* * *

Today, he would tell her the truth.

Today, he would lay himself bare before her.

Today, he would finally give her what she deserves.

But then she looks at him with big, trusting eyes and all his plans crumble to dust.

How would her eyes change then? Would she be angry with him? Would she ask him to leave the inquisition?

Would she fall on her knees in terrified supplication?

Even worse, what if she accepts him and his plans?

Then he would be guiding her to her most probable slaughter, and _then_ the true betrayal will come…

So instead the Wolf tells her about her vallaslin and he finds that the marks don’t matter, because just as it was never her cheekbones that made her kind and it was never her hair that made her intelligent, her tattoos had never made her spirit.

The same spirit that runs through her and that draws him to her like moth to a flame.

She is so beautiful.

Their lips meet and he is lost in her…

The Halla had started out as a firefly’s dim light, and somehow metamorphosed along the way. She became brighter and more tangible and more  _raw_ in each step until she became the sun itself, blazing and claiming her fiery dominion over him.

Perhaps everything happened for a reason, after all, this world made what Elvhenan could never accomplish. It made someone as warm and thoughtful and intelligent as her. Maybe it isn’t…

No!

He had a duty to the people!

Why does he get to live and love while they all hurt?

Why does their killer get to be happy while the victims suffer?

It is true that she held his heart much more then his duty, but duty was not something that drew its legitimacy from love or desire. It is a responsibility that you have to abide by especially when pressured to do otherwise, no matter the cost.

She was the sun, the light that ferociously expelled the darkness around him, the light that revealed people instead of silhouettes, expressions in the place of featureless faces, emotions and thought where there was once only a blank canvas.

He could not accept that.

He could never waver from his mission.

Even if he had to rip his heart out.

_I’m sorry…_

* * *

If the mark remains stable, then the Wolf would most likely never see Skyhold again.

It’s probably better this way, perhaps this way the Halla can find happiness again while time remains for her.

He is sorry for the pain he caused, but he cannot bring himself to regret loving her, there will always be a piece of her in him.

_It was real. It was real. It wasn’t just some dream._

And at least for that he was grateful.

* * *

Those bastards!

The _fucking_ bastards!

They’re honestly telling the world that someone just happened to sneak in _Skyhold_ and kill _her_ so easily!

He isn’t sure when _exactly_ he ended up crying on the ground.

She was the only good thing about this _forsaken_ world and they _hacked_ her! _Chopped_ her up like a butcher’s meat!

She was too trusting, just like Mythal…

This time he won’t go easy, he’ll burn them! He’ll raze…

* * *

 

* * *

‘Enough!’ Razikale’s voice boomed and echoed through the fade, half shout and half animal screech 

He hair zipped back to her like lizards scurrying back into their holes, leaving Ellana dazed with a scorched throat and an itch in her nose and eye sockets.

But it didn’t matter, none of it did…

After all that happened, she had expected an infatuation at best, something to let her know that at least it wasn’t a complete lie.

 _This_ though. This was beyond anything she could have envisioned.

It made her heart swell with joy and pride, Solas was still _Solas_ , kind, intelligent, freedom- advocating, tea-hating, gadfly-ish, spirit loving nerd.

He was just a lot older than she thought.

And more racist.

Definitely more racist.

Was he though?

Maybe he was just overwhelmed. Maybe it was just to cope if he gave in to false first impression. After all wasn’t him starting to change that view the very thing that drove him away from her.

 _Oh Solas..._  

Just what does he plan to do?

‘I have to find him!’ She said to no one.

‘Find who?’ Edric tugged on her sleeve.

‘He visits the fade all the time.’ She insisted to no one ‘I have to find him!’

Razikale’s voice was ice when she spoke ‘You will do no such thing!’ She stared her down, anger lacing her features ‘You will listen to what you have to do and you do it. That was the deal’

‘He’s planning something’ She retorted, trying to at least give the old dragon a reason ‘I have to talk to him!’

‘If you don’t do what I say then none of this will matter anymore’ Razikale was unyielding ‘Do you wish for your world to wither and die?’

Images of bright aravels in the middle of the forest, and people standing steadfast while chanting in the snow, and an elf indulging her with stories of ancient magic, all suddenly seeped into her mind.

‘Then say what you will.’ She conceded.

She would listen to her for now.

She would do as she says.

She would find Corypheus and kill him.

And then.

And then her heart.

                                            

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you're enjoying yourselves. I's really love to know what you think so if you have any suggestions or questions just hurl them my way ;)
> 
> Beta (for chapter 4 and up) is the awesome Kriseis: http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kriseis/pseuds/Kriseis


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